Have always known just what I wanted to do with my life.
Problem is, that happens to change all the time.
As a teenager, was die hard over-achiever. And was absolutely certain that was destined to work in the medical field. Blew Anatomy and Physiology teachers away with ungodly abilities to memorize trivial names of body structures and by the age of 16, completed medical rotations as a licensed vocational nurse, had assisted in half a dozen labor and deliveries and had an after school job in local hospital’s ER.
By age 17, decided that had a weak stomach after all. And so, still determined to be amazing at something, traded in my scrubs for Adobe PageMaker, convinced that was going to be the next big thing in journalism. Soon was writing for the Dallas Morning News, editing school paper with Genghis Khan-like ferocity and basking in new-found nerd-hood at state journalism competitions.
By the second year of college, however, realized that was not going to be amazing journalist and decided to frighten already nervous parents by deciding to major in a foreign language that, for all intents and purposes, did not speak with any fluency greater than what was taught on Sesame Street. Abierto. Cerrado. Moved to a foreign country, lived off a credit card (which am STILL paying), and worked (not so) diligently on requisite, foreign-tongued thesis. Was going to be the greatest linguist ever to shed that Ugly American stigma! But do you see me working for the United Nations? Tragically, no. That whole over-achiever thing definitely wore off. Somewhere along the line, learned to relax (to whatever good or harm).
And now? Ha! Now, I just want to be happy. Remember being a kid and asking hard-working mother what she wanted her bratty-faced daughter to be when she grew up. She always said, happy. She wanted me to be happy. Know what? There’s something to that. A whole lot to that, actually. And while am not going to get Monkey Firm to reprint business cards with Vice President of Happy in place of current job title, am going to make a bigger effort to see past career woes and take in the bigger picture.
And eat less ice cream.
Oh, and it’s lingerie day today. For no other reason than is satisfying to know that, beneath multiple layers of clothing necessary to survive in frigid office, am sporting some v. sexy under things. Is great to be a girl. Really.
Ain’t nuttin’ wrong with ice-cream. And it’s only great being a girl until you find guys paying $5 for a 7-pack of undies. Yup, they come in 7-packs now.
But hey, you’re happy.
You go girl.
Why is it that the amount of material used to make sexy underwear is inversely proportional to the price?
I don’t think “less ice-cream” and “happy” belong in the same sentence. Just my opinion.
why sell self short? go for Full President of Happy title!
Didn’t know you spent high school years in big D as did other as-yet-unnamed blogger (me). the similarities keep coming…except that you’re a girl and I’m not. and other things, too, I’d imagine.
heeee!! i basked in my own nerd-hood at state journalism contests in high school. bet we were in austin at the same time. funny!
No advice, just an observation: sometimes our self-image doesn’t match reality. Were you an over-achiever, or something else? Wishing you happiness in its own good time and thinking what a lovely site you created. Best wishes!
sounds like you have had a good ride so far. congrats.
my malfunction is slowing down and relaxing to the point where now, it’s time for some over achieving and that gear seems to be all together gone on the stick.
hmmm.
Your writing tells me you’re destined to make lemonade out of life, wherever it takes you, Fish.
Let’s see your cooter!
Fish, I’m coming to the same realizations. Interesting article about it today on http://editorial.careers.msn.com/articles/crisis apparently we aren’t the only ones. That was quite a relief to find out.
COOTER! LET’S SEE IT!
I don’t let my career/job define me. I’ve been many things so far, and continue to be a work in progress.
My underthings aren’t necessarily provacative, but like the majority of my wardrobe are supremely comfortable. It’s good to be a guy, too.
I’m so glad I’m not alone. I was also once a v. determined overachiever, and I now work as a secretary. I’m happy, but I wish for 1) more money and 2) a cooler city. I’m languishing away in Dallas.